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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760444">at the touch of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher'>squadrickchestopher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Filthy Porn Fridays [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Dildos, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Vibrators</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:48:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t do anything, is the worst and best part. He’s tied to the bed, all four limbs to opposite bedposts. There’s enough slack for his knees to bend a bit, but his arms are stretched tight, muscles straining against the ropes. He knows he won’t get anywhere. They’d reinforced the headboard after last time, and this rope is special-made from Stark’s lab—not that he knows they stole it, or what they use it for—so he’s pretty much stuck until Clint decides to let him out, or if he safe words out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Filthy Porn Fridays [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Clintucky Fried Bunnies</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>at the touch of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>unbetaed, mistakes are mine mine mine. Title from <a href="https://poets.org/poem/touch-you">this poem.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck,” Bucky pants, eyes on the ceiling. “Christ—Clint—you gotta—”</p>
<p>“Oh baby,” Clint murmurs, and he <em>sounds </em>sympathetic, but then he’s twisting his fingers again, curling them into Bucky <em>just right, </em>and Bucky’s answering moan sounds like it’s being dragged from his bones. He’s long past the point of caring—Clint had fucked the <em>but what about the neighbors </em>out of him almost an hour ago—but the obscenity of it still makes him blush.</p>
<p>Which Clint finds fucking <em>adorable</em>, judging from his wicked grin and the brightness in his eyes. “Baby,” he says again. “Don’t be embarrassed, I like all those pretty noises you make.”</p>
<p>“Make more if you’d fuck me,” Bucky mutters, turning his face into the pillow.</p>
<p>“Don’t be impatient,” Clint chides him, slapping his ass. “Fucked you twice already today, you still want more? I’m not a super soldier, honey, I need some time to rest. Gotta take it easy on us poor mortals.”</p>
<p>“You—” Bucky grits his teeth, shaking his head. “You fucking—”</p>
<p>“You <em>really </em>wanna finish that sentence?” Clint asks, grin curling even wider across his face. “Because I’d suggest you’d think twice, pretty boy. I could just leave you here like this. You’re at <em>my</em> mercy tonight.” As if to demonstrate, he pushes his hand forward, laughing as Bucky tries to arch up off the bed. “Best be sweet to me if you wanna get what you need.”</p>
<p>“Please,” Bucky says, turning his eyes back to Clint, furiously blinking tears out of them. “Clint, Clint, <em>please</em>—”</p>
<p>He can’t <em>do </em>anything, is the worst and best part. He’s tied to the bed, all four limbs to opposite bedposts. There’s enough slack for his knees to bend a bit, but his arms are stretched tight, muscles straining against the ropes. He knows he won’t get anywhere. They’d reinforced the headboard after last time, and this rope is special-made from Stark’s lab—not that he knows they stole it, or what they use it for—so he’s pretty much stuck until Clint decides to let him out, or if he safe words out.</p>
<p>Which he’s not going to, because he’s perfectly happy with how things are going. He loves being here, desperate and writhing, edged into utter oblivion. He loves being the center of Clint’s focus, loves watching those blue eyes fix on him with a single-minded intensity. He loves it even when Clint’s goal is apparently to drive him insane, just fucking shatter him into a million pieces.</p>
<p>He loves it, because he knows Clint will gather up every one of those pieces, then put them back into place with more tenderness and care than Bucky will ever deserve to have. Bucky’s perfectly happy to break under his hands, because he <em>trusts </em>Clint. Trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anyone in his long, mostly horrific life.</p>
<p>Loves him, too, but trust is really what it comes down to, in the end. Bucky isn’t laying here tied up because he loves Clint. It’s because he knows that if he says <em>stop, </em>Clint will stop. And that, to Bucky, means more than a thousand declarations of love ever will.</p>
<p>“You’re thinking again,” Clint says, head tilted to the side, fingers still curled inside Bucky, fucking him at a slow pace. “Watcha thinking about?”</p>
<p>“You,” Bucky says, because he can’t lie. Not when he’s spread open like this—physically, mentally, emotionally. “You take good care of me.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Clint asks, but Bucky can see the faint flush of happiness on his face, can see how the words affect him. “Wouldn’t know it, with how much you run your fuckin’ mouth.”</p>
<p>“You <em>like</em> my mouth,” Bucky says, half-amused, half-petulant, and Clint chuckles.</p>
<p>“I do,” he admits. “Like it so much I wanna see it sucking on my cock, how’s that sound?”</p>
<p>“Come up here and give it to me, then,” Bucky says, moving his leg as much he can. He manages to tap Clint’s hip with it. “Come on, I want it, I want you—”</p>
<p>“I know you do,” Clint says, a soothing tone to his voice. His free hand rubs over Bucky’s knee, and his other one—</p>
<p>“Jesus <em>fucking </em>Christ!” Bucky yells, bucking his hips up as he tries to scramble up the bed, away from the vibrating plug that Clint apparently just fucking summoned into his hand, because Bucky didn’t see him even pick it <em>up</em>—</p>
<p>“Language,” Clint says, warm amusement coloring his tone as he pins Bucky down, one hand firm on his hips while the other teases the plug around his hole. “What will the neighbors think?”</p>
<p>“Like you—<em>fuck</em>—give a shit,” Bucky grits out. He’s <em>so</em> hard, he feels like he’s been hard for hours, cock leaking all over his stomach. It’s filthy as hell and he <em>loves</em> it. “You don’t like them anyway, you said—”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean we get to be rude,” Clint chides. Bucky starts to call him a fucking hypocrite, but then Clint’s sliding the plug into him, and his brain just flatlines, thoughts erased for a helpless stream of <em>oh god oh god oh god.</em></p>
<p>“You gonna come?” Clint asks, nonchalant, twisting the plug around.</p>
<p>“<em>Mmmfg</em>—” Bucky’s hips grind down, desperate, needy. He’s shivering, hands twisting in the ropes. His right one will have marks tomorrow, he hopes, something that’ll remind him about today—not that he’s gonna <em>forget</em> it, but he likes tangible proof that this is real and happening to him. Seventy years of shattered memories is hard to shake off. “Clint, <em>fuck</em>—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Clint says, grinning at him. “We’ll get there. Answer my question.”</p>
<p>“I forgot it,” Bucky gasps, rocking in time with his thrusts.</p>
<p>“Asked if you were gonna come.”</p>
<p>“Yes, <em>please</em>—”</p>
<p>“Too bad,” Clint says, and he flicks the vibration off, pulling the plug out partway. He rubs his thumb where Bucky’s hole is stretched around it, sensitive and tender, before letting it slide back in. “You don’t listen, you don’t get to come.”</p>
<p>“Clint,” Bucky whines, trying to breathe through the mess of sensations.</p>
<p>“<em>Bucky</em>,” Clint mimics, and crawls up his body until he’s straddling Bucky’s chest, knees in his armpits and cock just barely out of reach. “Shut up, you like it.” He reaches down, gives his cock a few lazy strokes. “You want this?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Bucky says. “I want it, I want it, please—”</p>
<p>“You beg <em>so </em>pretty,” Clint tells him, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his face. “So sweet. Open for me.”</p>
<p>Bucky opens, and Clint slides his fingers in, fucking his mouth a few times before pulling back and replacing them with his cock. Just the head of it, just barely in Bucky’s mouth, making it so he has to <em>work </em>for it. Has to lift his head and try and lean forward, beg for it with his body. He probably looks desperate, teary eyes turned up at Clint as he struggles to take more in his mouth, range of motion limited by the ropes and his own body.</p>
<p>“Please,” he says, although it comes out garbled, broken, barely understandable. “More, please.”</p>
<p>“More?” Clint asks, and Bucky barely has time to read the mischievous look in his eye before he thrusts forward, right into Bucky’s mouth, drawing a choked noise of surprise out of him. “Like that?”</p>
<p>Bucky nods, frantic, and Clint does it again, and again, and again. Bucky keeps himself relaxed, lets Clint use him however he needs—and that’s what this is, really, is Clint using him. He’s not concerned with Bucky’s pleasure at all right now, just chasing his own orgasm, like Bucky’s just a warm, wet space to fuck into. Clint isn’t even <em>looking</em> at him, he’s got his head tilted back, and his eyes on the ceiling, muttering things that Bucky can’t hear. It’s so fucking <em>hot</em>, the way Clint’s muscles are moving and shifting as he fucks Bucky’s mouth, occasionally pausing to wipe the spit from his chin and listen to him before starting again.</p>
<p>After a lifetime, he sighs and pulls back. “Perfect,” he says, cock hard and wet from Bucky’s mouth, “but you’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”</p>
<p>“Want you to,” Bucky says. “I want it, please—”</p>
<p>“Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Clint says, grinning at him. ”Make up your mind, pretty boy.”</p>
<p>“I—” Bucky doesn’t even know. He wants <em>everything, </em>is that too much to ask? He wants Clint to come in his mouth <em>and </em>he wants to be fucked <em>and </em>he wants Clint to ride him, he just <em>wants </em>and it’s too much to think straight through it— “I don’t know, I don’t—you choose, please—”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Clint says, soothing and easy. “Okay. I got you. Just relax, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s breath hitches in a little sob as he nods, and Clint leans down, catching his mouth in a soft kiss. Bucky kisses him back with desperation, like he’s drowning and Clint is the air he needs. He’s <em>so </em>aware of every point of contact between them, the press of Clint’s hands on his face, the way his cock is rubbing against Bucky’s stomach, the squeeze of his thighs around him. Bucky normally hates being restrained, normally hates being tied up and helpless, but this here—this is <em>perfect, </em>so perfect, because—</p>
<p>“I trust you,” he says against Clint’s mouth, quiet, barely audible.</p>
<p>“I know you do,” Clint says back, and there’s a thousand emotions flickering in his eyes. “Gonna make you feel so good, babe, you just wait.”</p>
<p>Bucky nods. He’ll wait, he’ll be good, he’ll be okay. Clint’s gonna take care of him, like he always does, he’ll make it good, and all Bucky has to do is hold on and <em>feel. </em></p>
<p>Clint gets off the bed, rummaging around in their ottoman before coming up with a package, a box that Bucky hasn’t seen before. “You’ll like it,” he says in response to Bucky’s questioning look.</p>
<p>“Course I will,” Bucky says, and Clint gets that glint in his eye, that one that Bucky both loves and hates. He’s had it for most of today, really, but there’s a new shine to it now.</p>
<p>He opens the package, pulling out something thick and purple. Bucky rolls his eyes, because of course it’s <em>purple, </em>their entire sex toy collection is purple, they’re going to have to talk about that at some point.</p>
<p>This one’s a little different, at least, and Bucky raises an eyebrow at it. “You been on that dragon website again?”</p>
<p>“There was a sale,” Clint says innocently, holding it up. It’s got some…<em>interesting </em>ridges and ripples, and it’s tapered at the top. “What, you scared?”</p>
<p>Bucky snorts. “Do I look scared?”</p>
<p>“You look desperate,” Clint tells him, and Bucky flushes red, because he’s not wrong. The more he looks at that dildo, the more he wants it. “I like it, though.”</p>
<p>“That going in you or me?”</p>
<p>In answer, Clint slicks it up, and nudges it against Bucky’s hole. Bucky tilts his hips up as best he can, already panting as the first inch slides into him. It’s <em>incredible, </em>the top ridge already providing that little extra edge of stimulation, and his cock jumps at the feeling. Clint grins and runs his fingers through the mess on Bucky’s stomach, running them feather-light up and down the skin. “Messy boy,” he says, just barely brushing Bucky’s dick. Bucky arches into the contact, a high-pitched whine escaping him.</p>
<p>Clint pushes the dildo into him the rest of the way, taking way too much delight in the way Bucky goes glassy-eyed and moans like it’s been punched out of him. “God, you’re pretty,” he says, wrapping a hand around his own dick even as he grinds the dildo into Bucky.</p>
<p>Bucky forgets what words are, lost entirely in the feeling of slick silicone filling him up, all the extra bumps and ripples just ratcheting everything up more. “Christ,” he wheezes, hips involuntarily jerking. “I—Clint—”</p>
<p>“See,” Clint says, tone nice and even, “I want to sit on your dick, but I also want to fuck you. So this is what you get.” He fiddles with the dildo for a moment, and then grins as Bucky’s mouth falls open in a wet gasp. “Told you you’d like it.”</p>
<p>“What the <em>fuck,” </em>Bucky manages, the intensity of the vibrations almost too much against his swollen prostate. “What—Clint, oh my god—”</p>
<p>“Told ya,” Clint says again, lazily pumping it into him. He lets go of his dick, spreads some lube on his fingers with his other hand, and works them inside himself at the same pace. “Should I stop?”</p>
<p>“I’ll kill you,” Bucky warns him. He means for it to come out intimidating, but his voice cracks in the middle of it, and he ends up biting the last word off in a moan. Clint just chuckles darkly.</p>
<p>“Sure you will,” he says. “Big scary Winter Soldier. You’re a lot less terrifying when you’re like this, you know? ‘Bout as threatening as a kitten.”</p>
<p>“I’m scary,” Bucky protests, or tries to protest. It sort of comes out as a whimper, which doesn’t really help his stance at all. “Just you wait—”</p>
<p>He cuts off with a moan as Clint <em>finally</em> lowers himself onto Bucky’s dick, thoughts lost in a running stream of <em>tight tight tight</em> as Clint settles around him, his eyes closed in rapture. “Fuck,” he says, breathing deeply. “God, <em>Clint</em>.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, babe,” Clint mutters, voice catching on a moan. ”Me too.”</p>
<p>But then he doesn’t <em>do</em> anything about it, the rotten bastard. He just sits there, slowly rolling his hips, mouth slightly open and eyes closed. He’s a vision of sin, and it’s <em>gorgeous, </em>and Bucky stores the memory away to dream about later.</p>
<p>“Can I come?” he asks, desperate and needy.</p>
<p>“After I do,” Clint says, looking down at him. “Okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky says, because as bad as he wants to come, he wants Clint to feel good too, and if that means waiting, he will. He’d wait forever if Clint asked him to. “Yeah. Anything you want.”</p>
<p>Clint smiles, and there’s so much <em>love </em>in it that Bucky can hardly stand it. He survived seventy plus years of pain and torture, but this is what’s going to kill him—the knowledge that despite all his flaws, despite his baggage and his nightmares and his problems, Clint Barton fucking loves him anyway. Loves him <em>for </em>that, because of it, and <em>god</em>, does Bucky love him back. More than he ever thought he possible.</p>
<p>“You’re amazing,” Clint says, riding him. One hand is splayed on Bucky’s chest for balance, the other is behind him, fucking the vibrator into Bucky over and over and over, nailing the right spot with unerring accuracy. “Dunno how I got so fuckin’ lucky—” he gasps, rolls his hips just right.</p>
<p>“<em>Clint</em>,” is all Bucky can say in response, packing a million things into one syllable, hoping Clint understands him. “Clint, Clint, <em>please</em>—”</p>
<p>“I’m real close,” Clint says, and he looks it, all slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. “You feel so good in me, babe. Almost got me there—”</p>
<p>Bucky finally manages to send some signals to his legs, bracing his feet enough to grind <em>up</em> at the same time Clint comes <em>down. </em>He can only do it a few times, but a few times is all it takes—Clint’s eyes go wide, and then he’s calling Bucky’s name like a fevered prayer, moving a hand to his cock as he adds to the mess on Bucky’s stomach.</p>
<p>Bucky should wait for permission, but he doesn’t have a choice at this point. The moment his name leaves Clint’s mouth, it’s game over. He’s knocked off the edge, coming with a blinding intensity that has him swearing at the ceiling, Russian curses mixed with Clint’s name. His vision goes dark for a moment, ears ringing, the very breath stolen from his lungs—</p>
<p>He comes back to life with the feeling of hands on his face, Clint’s quiet words in his ear. “That’s it,” he’s murmuring. “God, baby, you did so good for me, holy shit.” He thumbs away the tears on Bucky’s cheeks, follows that up with soft kisses. “So fucking good. I’m gonna untie you, okay? You with me?”</p>
<p>“Green,” Bucky slurs, and Clint hums happily. He moves, rolling off Bucky, who tries not to whine at the loss of contact.</p>
<p>“I’ll be right back,” Clint assures him, fingers plucking at the knot around Bucky’s wrists. “I’m gonna untie these, clean you up a little, and then we can drink water and cuddle and watch trashy MTV shows.”</p>
<p>“No,” Bucky manages, blinking his eyes open. “That cake show.”</p>
<p>Clint pauses as he unties Bucky’s ankle. “Great British Baking Show?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” It’s not his <em>favorite</em>, but it’s worth it for the way Clint lights up at the suggestion. Besides, it’s really kind of calming. He’ll never admit to it, but he watches older seasons when Clint’s not around. He likes to pretend it’s for background noise, but also he just likes seeing how nice they all are to each other. It’s refreshing, and he’s in the mood for gentle things right now.</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Clint says. “Anything you want.” He finishes untying Bucky, then disappears into the bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth. He wipes Bucky down with a tenderness that Bucky never gets tired of seeing, following up the gentle swipes with a trail of kisses.</p>
<p>When they’re both clean, he crawls back into the bed, tugs Bucky against him. “Drink,” he orders, pushing a water bottle into his hands, and holds up a baggie of something. “I got you trail mix.”</p>
<p>“You’re too good to me,” Bucky murmurs, turning his head and curling into Clint’s chest more. He fits so perfectly here, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It’s perfect. Clint’s perfect. Everything is perfect.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Clint murmurs. “That’s why.” He picks up the remote and turns on the TV, opening Netflix.</p>
<p>“I love you too,” Bucky mumbles, and settles against him, reaching for the trail mix.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on <a href="https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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